


You - Ian & Mickey

by floralsuitian



Category: gallavich - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:07:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21686518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralsuitian/pseuds/floralsuitian
Summary: Mickey reminisces on all the times he was staring at and loving Ian, even when he didn't want to, and realizes that he's perfectly okay with staring at and loving Ian for the rest of his life.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 65





	You - Ian & Mickey

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! This is my first work on here, and my first work related to Ian and Mickey in general, and so many of my mutuals on Twitter have already read this. But they liked it so much they wanted me to upload it, so here it is!! I was so nervous to share this in this way because I was afraid some might not think I did these two justice, but I tried to do that as much as possible while also still finding little things that I think they would be really good at showing (affection, touches, looks, etc). This is longer than I wanted it to be sooo without further ado, I hope you enjoy!! :)

_~ “What’re you staring at?”, Ian chuckles, his thumb running over Mickey’s knuckles gently. Mickey clears his throat, shakes his head, pretends he wasn’t analyzing the way Ian’s lips curve up when he laughs, the way smile lines are starting to form in the corners of his mouth. His mouth. The way his lips are so pink and soft and always makes Mickey want to melt into the floor every time they kiss._   
_“Mick, come on. Tell me”. Ian’s voice is soft and he leans his forehead to Mickey’s, pressing them together. Mickey looks up from where their hands are connected and meets Ian’s eyes. Those eyes. As green as the trees in spring. The freckles outlining the outside of his eyelids. How in the world Mickey had managed to fall in love with someone as beautiful as Ian, he would never fucking know._   
_“No...nothing. Just...you...staring at you”._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mickey stared at Ian a lot. Well actually, he was always staring at Ian. He remembers every moment that he was staring at him for long periods of time.

He stared at him the first time he stole from the Kash N’ Grab and Ian said his name for the first time. He stared at him when he went with Mandy to pick him up from juvie that one summer and pretended to be annoyed about it. He stared at him forever when they kissed at the club, even though he was absolutely terrified of doing so in public. He also had definitely stared at him the time they were laying in bed together, after their first time making love, and Ian had fallen asleep first.

And now, as they sat at the kitchen table in the Gallagher house, looking through catalogs on new places to live, Mickey was in fact, staring at Ian Gallagher.

Ian was beautiful; Mickey knew that the first time he ever saw him. He remembered hating how red his hair was, how all the freckles that littered his skin were so…adorable. Mickey Milkovich and the word “adorable” really did not fit into the same sentence. Hell, they didn’t even fit into the same category. But that’s what he thought about. A lot. And then he thought a lot about how he could make Ian his. He started finding ways to see him more often (even if it meant breaking the law and doing time), started finding ways to get Ian to say his name. The way he said his name, so soft and gentle, like he was trying to taste the syllables. Trying to memorize the way it felt in his mouth. Every time Ian said his name, it felt like home. Like he could breathe again.

Mickey remembers the first time he knew he was in love with Ian. He kind of always knew he was in love with him. But he remembers when he really felt that feeling. That sickening, twisting, can’t-sleep-at-night feeling. Mickey had always known, he thought, but the moment that stands out is Ian coming over to tell him he was running off to join the army. Mickey knew then. He’s pretty sure he knew before that; it might’ve been when Ian and him were roughhousing in that alleyway after Mickey beat the shit out of his fucking old ass “boyfriend”. Or maybe it was the time when his dad came home early and beat the shit out of them both and Mickey was so scared that he would never see Ian ever again. Maybe it was then. Maybe the thought of losing Ian was when he realized he was in love with him. Yeah, he’ll go with that.

Ian’s staring at the magazine on the table, his fingers skimming over words and nonsense while Mickey is just staring at...him. He’s staring at the way Ian’s forehead is scrunched, the way his hair is so perfectly gelled back, showing off the full structure of his face. Mickey always loved Ian’s eyes. They were green, like really green. Piercing, but also gentle and warm. His skin was smooth from shaving his face this morning, but Mickey noticed a little knick on the slope of his neck where he had cut himself. He wanted to reach over and wipe it away, but he wanted to keep staring at Ian while he was still distracted. So he did.

Mickey doesn’t remember exactly when he really started looking at Ian, but it was more recently, he supposes anyways. The day Mickey broke out of prison all those years ago and he had Ian meet him under the school bleachers. He remembers that Ian was wearing his work clothes. Paramedic. Ian said he was an EMT now.

He remembers the way Ian chuckled at Mickey’s suggestion to come with him over the border, and the way his face fell when he realized he was serious. Mickey thinks that’s when he really started staring at Ian. The slope of his nose, the faint freckles on his cheeks, the smile lines in the corner of his mouth. The way his hair was so perfectly styled even when he had had, moments before, a bag over his head. The way his eyes seemed so distant but were still just mere inches in front of him. Mickey remembers something else: he wanted to kiss him. Or maybe he wanted Ian to kiss him. Either way, he wanted to feel his lips again. Wanted to taste him again. It had been years, literally, since he had kissed this man. Years since he had looked at him without the fucking barrier of glass and a fucking telephone to hear his voice. Years. Literal years. And Mickey remembers the breath that he took when Ian was tossed from the van, and how Ian had stared at him from a distance. Mickey thinks that was when he realized he wanted to stare at Ian forever.

Mickey nearly jumps out of his skin when Ian scoots the chair back across the floor to get up from the table, drowning out his distant memories. Mickey knows Ian’s talking to him, but again, he’s just looking at him while he does, no response emitting from Mickey. Ian walks to the fridge, takes a beer from the shelf. Mickey watches the way he opens the bottle and takes a swig of the drink, his lips pressing to the opening of the bottle. The way his hand is clutching the bottle, and Ian is definitely talking to him about something important, but Mickey really has no idea what he’s saying. He’s too busy staring at Ian’s lips and hands.

“Mickey, what the hell? Did you hear anything I said?”, Ian asks, his forehead creased and his eyes boring into Mickey’s from the kitchen counter. His eyes…

“Yeah...yeah, sorry. I’m just...do you think we could talk about this shit later? Why do we need to do this now?” Mickey runs his hand over his face, groaning like a child. Ian makes his way back over to the table. When he sits down, he takes Mickey’s hand in his. Mickey stares dumbfounded at the action, but then looks up to meet those fucking green eyes once again.

“Because...I want us to have our own place. Our own space, our own kitchen, our own bed”, Ian’s thumb is running over the back of Mickey’s knuckles and Mickey is still lost in Ian’s face.  
“No one to walk in on us when we want to be alone, hmm?” Ian says the last sentence so quietly, Mickey almost leans closer to him. Not that he would mind one fucking bit.

“Yeah, I guess. But...we can go be alone right now, no?” Mickey’s other hand drags slowly up Ian’s jean-clad thigh, closer and closer to his hip. Ian smiles at him wickedly, then flicks his gaze to the front door. He was probably right. No one would be home for a while and they both had the day off. What could go wrong for the time being?  
Mickey leans towards Ian, his lips next to the shell of his ear, and he swears he sees the goosebumps rise on Ian’s skin, “Wanna look at your face while we fuck”, he takes Ian’s earlobe past his lips and Ian tightens his grip on Mickey’s hand, the sexiest sound Mickey has ever heard falling from Ian’s lips.

“Let’s go, tough guy”, Mickey whispers, dragging him up the stairs to their room (it was actually Fiona’s old room, and then it was Lip’s old room, and now it was theirs, for now). Mickey really did want to fuck Ian, he wasn’t lying about it; but this was also just another excuse to watch his face contort in pleasure as he came. There was something so beautiful about Ian’s orgasm face. Mickey couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but whenever Mickey rolled them over so he was on top, he would watch the way Ian’s lips fell open and the way his head fell back into the pillows, the way his hands gripped and pressed into the skin of Mickey’s hips. The way he would bite his lip every time Mickey rolled his hips. It was sexy, Mickey wouldn’t lie. How could he when Ian was the most beautiful being he had ever laid his eyes on? Ian was sexy. Mickey also wouldn’t lie about that.

Now Ian was hovering over him, naked and so beautiful; Mickey’s eyes followed every single move he made. Ian was still slightly oblivious to the fact that Mickey was staring so intently at him, watching as he took the bottle of lube from the nightstand, Ian’s naked body smooth and hot under Mickey’s hands. Ian hummed when Mickey ran them across the span of his back, squeezing the flesh of his hips. Watching the way the muscles in his shoulders contracted as he spread Mickey’s legs, eased his long fingers into him. Mickey’s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, his hands tugging gently at Ian’s hair. As much as Mickey was enjoying the feeling of Ian’s fingers, he really wanted him to hurry the fuck up so that he could watch Ian’s face as he came undone. It was pure torture waiting for Ian to finish prepping him, but finally, he stopped the movement of his fingers, fitted himself between Mickey’s hips, pressed their foreheads together. Carefully eased himself inside of Mickey, a moan leaving Ian’s parted lips. Those lips. Mickey kept his eyes open long enough to see Ian’s eyes flutter closed, then lifted his head from the pillow to connect their lips. The hum that left Ian’s mouth felt warm; to Mickey, it felt like breathing again. As most of the things Ian did made Mickey feel.

As Ian started to move his hips, Mickey touched Ian wherever he felt necessary. One hand in his hair, the other on his hip, sometimes reaching down to grope his ass, until he finally flipped them over. Ian slipped from Mickey for a second, but Mickey hurriedly eased himself back onto Ian. Once he settled over him, Ian immediately gripped his hips again. Bit his bottom lip. Moaned out a “fuck, _Mick_ ”, that almost sent Mickey over the edge. This was his favorite thing in the world. Making Ian feel this way. Watching the way his face flushed as red as his hair. Listening to the sounds that fell from his perfect lips. Mickey revelled in this; loved feeling Ian’s hot skin beneath his hands, the way his legs would shake as he continued to fuck himself over him. Sometimes Ian would buck his hips up, sending Mickey into a state of bliss that he didn’t know resonated inside of him. He wanted Ian to make him feel the same way Mickey made Ian feel for the rest of his life. He would stutter out a “ _fuck,_ do that again”, and Ian would. Mickey thinks feeling this way, with Ian, the only man he’s ever loved, is a good enough reason to feel content forever.

Now, they’re lying in bed together; Mickey is still staring at Ian. At his fingers, his chest, his face, his arms, his lips. His nose which he keeps scrunching every time he sniffles. Ian’s playing with his fingers, interlacing them over and over again, and then kissing his fingertips. It makes Mickey feel warm, this moment right here. The two of them lying here, wrapped in blankets and bare, the sounds of the busy Chicago streets outside. Ian’s toes are running up and down Mickey’s legs gently. Mickey thinks it’s the perfect time to tell Ian he loves him, so he does.

“Love you. So much”. Mickey watches the way Ian’s face turns to him and his lips curve up slightly. He leans forward, placing the softest kiss to Mickey’s lips.

“Love you more”, Ian says, his hand falling under the blanket to caress the skin of Mickey’s hip. And there he goes again. Staring at Ian. Even after sex, he looks completely put together. Completely and utterly beautiful. He cards his fingers through Ian’s hair, a low hum leaving Ian’s lips.

“Don’t wanna get up”, Ian groans, tugging Mickey closer to him. Mickey chuckles, laying a kiss to his forehead.

“Don’t have to. You’re gonna have to pry me from this bed”. Mickey nuzzles his face in the crook of Ian’s neck, placing kisses to the skin, and Ian rolls them over, straddling Mickey’s waist.

“Gonna keep you here, you’re not allowed to leave”, Ian wiggles his eyebrows, causing Mickey to laugh again. This was his favorite Ian; playful, gentle, soft, warm. Ian was gentle with him most of the time, but his playful side only came out once in awhile. Mickey’s laughter dies down, Ian’s hands splay across Mickey’s chest. Mickey’s hands rest on Ian’s thighs, and he stares at Ian for the umpteenth time in the last three hours. And Ian finally notices. Really notices.

“What’re you staring at?”, Ian chuckles, his thumb running over Mickey’s knuckles gently. Mickey clears his throat, shakes his head. Pretends he wasn’t analyzing the way Ian’s lips curve up when he laughs, the way smile lines are starting to form in the corners of his mouth. His mouth. The way his lips are so pink and soft and always makes Mickey want to melt into the floor every time they kiss.

“Mick, come on. Tell me”. Ian’s voice is soft and he leans his forehead to Mickey’s, pressing them together. Mickey looks up from where their hands are connected and meets Ian’s eyes. _Those eyes_. As green as the trees in spring. The freckles outlining the outside of his eyelids. How in the world Mickey had managed to fall in love with someone as beautiful as Ian, he would never fucking know.

“No...nothing. Just...you”. Mickey feels his cheeks heat and Ian’s fingers stop moving across his knuckles, sitting up again. Mickey’s eyes flick up to Ian’s; Mickey’s not sure but he thinks he can see Ian tearing up a bit.

“Starin’ at you”, Mickey says, sitting up with Ian still straddling him. He wraps his arms around Ian’s back, clasping his hands and holding Ian against him.

“I fucking love you”, Ian smiles, leaning his forehead to Mickey’s again. Mickey chuckles, kisses Ian slowly. Tells him he fucking loves him too, holds him close for a little bit longer. It’s these moments, where Ian is happy and whole and himself, when he’s not sleeping for days or bouncing off the walls, that keep Mickey happy and whole and himself. It’s also why Mickey keeps staring at him even after they’ve decided to finally untangle themselves from the confines of their bed. He follows behind Ian so he can stare at the back of his neck, watch the way the muscles contract underneath his thin t-shirt. Sees his whole face light up when he’s playing with his niece and nephew. This...this is what makes Mickey feel like he can breathe again.  
Mickey stared at Ian a lot. He was always staring at Ian. He remembers every single moment where he was staring at him. Every single one. He remembers the first time he realized Ian was the love of his life. This time, as they’re sitting on the couch, Ian’s arm around his shoulders, Mickey’s legs resting over Ian’s, watching him laugh and joke with his siblings, the crinkles in his eyes appearing every time he laughed, Mickey was absolutely positive he could stare at and love Ian for the rest of his life.

So he did.


End file.
